


Listen, the Snow Is Falling

by dracoismytrashson (JGogoboots)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Rimming, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGogoboots/pseuds/dracoismytrashson
Summary: It's the coldest day of the year, and a blizzard is threatening to bury the city at any moment. All Draco Malfoy wants to do is get through his shift at the homeless shelter so he can go home to a warm cat and a comfy bed. Too bad the universe has other plans.





	Listen, the Snow Is Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersbyelise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/gifts).



> Thank you to K for beta-ing this! Dear giftee, I hope this fic warms your heart on a cold winter night. :)

Draco swore as he fumbled with his keys, frozen fingers reluctantly leaving the warmth of his pockets. He hurriedly jammed the key in the lock, but it refused to turn. It had become temperamental ever since the temperature dropped earlier in the week. Winter had been a nasty piece of work from the moment November had faded into the chilly embrace of December, like a spectral hand touching every windowpane and leaving spidery frost in its wake. But this… this was pure insanity that Draco simply couldn’t abide by. He hadn’t the constitution for it; he was the type to shiver in ten degree weather, and the crackly wireless feed on the bus that morning had broadcast negative twenty for tomorrow.

Glancing around to see if anyone was about, Draco discreetly pulled out his wand and cast a warming charm on the lock, giving a triumphant little yelp when the key turned at last. Slamming the door behind him, he began to strip off his layers, relieved to be inside where his breath didn’t come out in puffs of thick fog and any drop of moisture on his skin didn’t turn into tiny icicles of frosty pain. Draco kept warming charms perpetually running during the winter. He figured it wasn’t any more wasteful than Muggles leaving the furnace on during the day, and the feeling of melting into a cozy house after marching through the cold London streets was an unmatched comfort he intended to keep. Besides, all luxuries aside, there was Colette to think of.

As he hung up his scarf, hat, and coat, his good mood turned melancholy. Not everyone was blessed with the comfort afforded him, and this time of year was a sharp reminder of that. He’d just come back from another shift at the shelter and knew he’d be there again in less than eight hours, waking at the ungodly time of five in the morning, the sky that winter blue-black that felt like a void swallowing every trace of light left in the universe. Draco hated that about winter; the perpetual darkness started to take its emotional toll after a while, day after day of the sun making only the briefest of appearances, falling asleep in darkness only to wake up to more of the same. It was disorienting and more than a little depressing. How could you convince your body to rouse when the landscape still looked like it was tucked away for hibernation?

But what Draco _did_ love is the stillness. There was a pervasive hush in the winter mornings, especially if you chose to rise before the streets became cluttered with the masses rushing to their morning commute, people spilling onto the sidewalks like hordes of ants whose only goal was to fulfill the duties appointed to them by the colony. At five AM, you didn’t have to worry about that. There was a meditative quality hanging in the atmosphere. Even if you boarded a bus to find you weren’t the only one starting your day ahead of the crowd, everyone respectfully acknowledged each other without bursting the bubble of serenity. It was a feeling akin to floating, drifting along the streets uninterrupted and in no hurry.

Draco often took advantage of that time by walking to his destination, foregoing public transit in favor of getting his blood pumping as he listened to The Cocteau Twins and The Smiths, the dreamy music accompanying the stark winter landscape perfectly. It gave him time to think, time to organize whatever chaos had built in his mind overnight and arrive ready to face the day’s challenges. Gwen would say he spent too much time in his head, but he disagreed. When your head needed as much sorting as Draco’s, learning how to deal with it was vital.

The homeless shelter was only five blocks away, but Draco tended to walk another ten to get to his favorite coffee shop. It was a two part mental cleansing ritual, the caffeine serving not only as a nice pick-me-up but also as a way to banish a little bit of the chill in his bones. Sadly, the days when the walk alone would heat him up had long since passed. This week he could barely handle a five-block walk let alone fifteen, hence the decision to board the bus with the rest of the early risers that morning.

Draco sighed and scooped up Colette, who had come to mewl at his feet, winding her light grey body around his legs, a rumbling purr beginning in her throat.

“Hey there, little one. Did you miss me?” Draco scratched under her furry chin with a forefinger. She answered him with an enthusiastic meow. Draco chuckled and started to walk up the stairs with the cat still in his arms. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go up to bed, shall we?”

Draco gently deposited Colette onto the bed and changed into pajama bottoms and his Portishead t-shirt, the cotton beaten into the perfect softness from a couple years of washes and wear. He threw on his favorite fluffy green jumper for extra warmth and climbed into bed, lifting the comforter so Colette could daintily walk underneath it. She kneaded the covers with her claws before settling against Draco’s side. Tomorrow was sure to be even more exhausting than today, but Draco drifted into sleep easily, finally home and warm.

 

***

 

“People are urged not to remain outside for longer than ten minutes at a time lest the risk of frostbite set in. The snow is forecast to begin sometime around noon, with a projected twelve inches of accumulation by five in the evening. As the temperature dips down into the negative teens after sunset, expect the ground to freeze. Do not attempt any travel if you can avoid it. Roads will be quite treacherous, worsening as the day goes on. Temperatures are expected to rise late tomorrow morning, sunny skies with a high of zero, melting the ice cover. Stay inside if you can!”

As the announcer launched into a recitation of school closings, Draco clicked off the wireless and laced up his boots, choosing the more utilitarian ones over his stylish Doc Martens. If they got even a fraction of the predicted snow, he was going to need them. He felt absurdly bundled already, and he hadn’t even put on the final layer. Underneath his jeans was a black pair of thermal underwear, a matching top under his black Pulp t-shirt. On top of all that was the thickest wool jumper he owned. Once again, not the most attractive item in his closet, but looking fit was a pretty low priority for this day. Survival had taken the top spot.

He bent down to give Colette’s head a farewell pat. She meowed a bit mournfully, and Draco made his own sound of lamentation in response. Sometimes he could swear she was smarter and more perceptive than most humans he knew.

“I know, I know. I don’t particularly want to leave and brave the frozen tundra either. I’d much rather be curled up by the fireplace with you and a mystery, but unfortunately I have loads of karma to work off. And I’ll feel absolute shit if I abandon Gwynnie today. I’ll be back tonight. I promise.”

Colette made a haughty sound as if to say _you’d better be_ , and Draco ran his hand down her arched back all the way to the tip of her bushy tail. Her tail was fluffier than the rest of her slender body, which suited her somehow, making her statuesque poses appear even more regal as it framed her legs.

As soon as Draco stepped outside, the ferocious wind hit his face, causing him to let out a string of curses that would have made even the sharpest-tongued sailor blush. It was only five blocks, but he knew it was going to be unbearable. Shoving his gloved hands deep into his pockets, Draco forged ahead.         

 

***

 

“Merlin’s saggy tits, it’s fucking colder than a rotting hag’s breath!” Draco exclaimed as Gwen laughed. He took off his beanie and unwrapped the many coils of scarf surrounding his face. He didn’t know how it was possible that his face felt like the inside of an ice sculpture when the only thing uncovered was his eyes.

“Always with the alien vernacular. I never know what you’re on about.” He trailed behind Gwen into the office, hanging up his winter garb on the coat rack in the corner.

Despite two solid years in the Muggle world, old habits died hard. Draco was particularly prone to slipping up when he was stressed, his emotions clouding his brain until he forgot to pay attention. It was difficult to be vigilant all the time, but luckily, Gwen tended to write off these outbursts as simply one of Draco’s quirks. She claimed it was one of the many reasons she loved him. Every floundering day he spent in Muggle London, he grew more grateful for her friendship. He supposed someday it wouldn’t be so hard. Someday _Muggle Draco_ wouldn’t simply be a suit he wore. Someday it would be who he was. No fumbling to remember how a toaster worked or how to make change from Muggle money or accidentally shouting about Merlin’s tits.

“God,” _There, you got it right, Draco. Fucking take that, wizarding world,_ “Five blocks felt like twenty-five.”

“You walked?! Your insanity knows no limits. Fairly certain you weigh about ninety pounds. Hope you tied a bloody anvil to your leg.”

“It’s too early for coffee at Rose’s so I just… I don’t know, I thought I could handle five blocks. And I weigh quite a bit more than ninety pounds, thank you very much. The wind isn’t going to blow me away, you bloody bint.” Draco rolled his eyes, and Gwen pinched his upper arm. Draco jerked away, wincing in a combination of laughter and pain. “Why I’m here for you on the coldest day of the year with winter storm doom hanging over our heads is beyond me. You clearly deserve nothing.”

“You’re here because you owe me, you love me, and without me, you would be utterly helpless and face down in a gutter somewhere.” She fixed him with an unwavering look and twisted her dark braids up into a neat round mass at the back of her head, quickly pinning them in place around the edges with a practiced hand.

“I know. You’re a goddess. What else is new?” Draco gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Well… about that…” She rolled up the sleeves of her rainbow-striped jumper and bit her lip.

“What? The last time you looked at me like that, I ended up riding in a rickety milk truck with Andy all the way to Oxford to pick up food to make up for a missed shipment. It was the road trip from hell.” Draco leaned against the cluttered desk and crossed his arms.

“Oh Moody Malfoy, when will you lay off him? He’s just… well…” Gwen struggled to provide a defense, and Draco could see that she was fighting a smile.

“Lazy? Inappropriate? Dresses like it’s 1982 and smells like that was the last year he showered too?”

Gwen shook her head and tightened her mouth to keep from laughing.

“I was going to say he _means_ well, but we’ve got bigger things to argue about than Andy. It’s looking like you, Matt, and I are going to be the only ones here today.”

“What?! Alicia – ”

“Had to stay home today. School is canceled everywhere, and Rob’s in Bristol so he can’t look after the kids.”

“And Ethan – ”

“You know how long his ride is. By the time he gets here, it’ll – ”

“Be only a couple hours before it starts snowing, and he’ll be stuck,” Draco finished with a weary sigh. He didn’t bother asking about the rest; he knew it would just be more of the same. “Alright, fuck… what do we do? It’s going to be absolutely nutters here today. It’s so cold…”

“I know. I figure once it’s no longer the arse crack of dawn, I’ll start calling some of our regular volunteers. Hopefully some of them live close enough or we’re screwed.”

Draco nodded solemnly.

“Where is Matt anyway?”

“Upstairs getting beds ready. How about you start in the kitchen? I’ll help him and then get through this list of calls, yeah?”

“Anything you need, Gwynnie.”

“Thanks, Draco. You’re a peach. A surly, slightly bitter little peach, but that just happens to be my favorite kind.”

“Love you too.” Draco smiled and headed to the kitchen to get to work.

 

**

 

Draco was elbow deep in the preparation of chicken soup and loaves of bread when the big double doors in the front opened. Gwen had only managed to corral four people, but that was still impressive given the awful weather. She was as loving and empathetic as they came, but she also had a stern way about her that made people acquiesce when she asked them to do anything. She wasn’t to be trifled with, and her tender fierceness reminded Draco a bit of Professor McGonagall.

When he heard the murmur of voices approaching, he didn’t turn to see who it was. Too much to do and no time at all in which to do it. Perhaps he should have turned around to have a look. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have burnt his hand on the hot edge of the pot at the sound of a very familiar voice saying “Oh…hullo, Malfoy.”

“Merlin’s fucking balls!” Draco instinctively sucked the reddened flesh into his mouth as he rushed over to the double basin sink, turning the cold on full blast. He plunged his throbbing hand under the stream, exhaling a long, measured breath. It hurt so much he almost forgot what had made him burn his fingers in the first place. Almost.

“Um, Malfoy you…” Harry looked around quickly and lowered his voice, “probably shouldn’t say that with Muggles – ”

“I bloody well know I shouldn’t say that right now,” Draco hissed. “Forgive me for being a bit distracted. Harry sodding Potter just walked in, and I burnt the holy hell out of my hand.”

“Sorry, I guess that’s a bit my fault. I shouldn’t have bothered you, but I was just… really surprised to see you here.” Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair, and Draco took the opportunity to really look at him. Draco bit his bottom lip and bid his facial expression to stay steady. He certainly didn’t want to betray just how unfortunately, maddeningly attractive he thought Harry was. It had been a good three years since they’d seen each other, and while Harry still had his trademark disheveled mane and round glasses, he’d changed significantly. All traces of his underfed frame had disappeared to leave behind slender muscle. He still wasn’t bulky by any means, but he’d filled out nicely, a fact that was enhanced by his form-fitting clothes. Gone were the oversized hand-me-downs Draco was accustomed to seeing Harry in, replaced now by jeans that seemed to outline every muscle and curve of his thighs, rather _lewdly_ so if Draco had anything to say about it. And he _did_ have a few choice words to say about it, namely _oh fuck_ and _yes please,_ both of which made him want to slap himself out of whatever delusion was possessing him at the moment. Potter was also wearing a rather smart looking red and black striped jumper layered over a white t-shirt. Why wasn’t he wearing a coat to cover all… _this_ up?!

“I could say the same to you, Potter. Where’s your coat?! It’s basically the arctic out there right now.” Draco gestured derisively up and down Potter’s body. He felt slightly stupid hiding behind a thin veneer of disdain, but he was desperate to deflect. This day was shaping up to be stressful enough. The last thing he needed was to add to the growing pile.

“Are you actually a Polyjuiced Molly Weasley?” Harry laughed, handing Draco a nearby towel to dry his hand. “Worried about me, Malfoy? My coat’s on the rack in Gwen’s office. I promise I didn’t trek here wearing only this. I’m not that dense.”

Harry’s brilliant green eyes, those ridiculously vivid emeralds that looked too bright to be real, shone as he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way Draco tried hard not to find adorable. Suddenly, Draco became conscious of his own bulky jumper and worn out jeans. The first time they see each other in three years, and Harry is the one who looks smashing?! This wasn’t supposed to be a day where anyone who actually cared about Draco's appearance could see him.

_Merlin, has it been that long since you had a good shag? This is POTTER. Stop it at once._

“If memory serves me, you _are_ that dense.” Draco crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow, but his posture deflated when he saw annoyance flicker across Harry’s eyes.

_Yes, that’s it. Insult him immediately. You’re a world class flirt, Draco._

“Nice to see you haven’t gotten any new material. Want a crack at my hair next?” Harry rolled his eyes and started to walk away, not waiting for an answer. “I’ll go see what Gwen needs.”

“Wait!”

Harry turned around with a puzzled look.

“I’m sorry. I just… it’s been an awful morning. I hate the cold, my walk here was like the end of _The Shining_ , I couldn’t have my morning coffee. Everyone except Gwen, Matt and I couldn’t make it due to the weather, and then you showed up. I was caught off guard is all. Why _are_ you here, anyway?” Draco tried a small smile to signify that he meant well, and it appeared to work. Harry’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and he took a couple steps closer.

“Did you just… reference _The Shining_?!”

“Yes, I’ve been – ” Draco glanced around and lowered his voice, “I’ve lived here a little while, okay? Can we not get into this right now? Fucking hell, this is going to be a long day…”

Draco rubbed his temples. A splitting headache was definitely on the horizon.

“Alright, forget it. Anyway, I’m here all the time. I live down the road a ways. Do you know where Rose’s Café is?”

“Yes. I’m there basically every morning. I don’t…” Draco narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “How have I not seen you?”

“Dunno. I live a couple blocks down the street from it so I’m there a lot. Usually in the middle of the day though, and I volunteer here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” Draco pointed a finger at himself.

“Kind of hilarious, isn’t it?” Harry grinned impishly, and Draco fought to stop picturing that grin spreading across his face as he climbed out of those form-fitting clothes and straddled Draco’s lap.

_Good Merlin, you’re disgusting, Draco. Absolutely disgusting. You’re here to help the homeless. Stop. It. Now._

“Oh, yes. Positively hysterical.”

 

***

 

When the doors opened at eight, Draco no longer had time to worry about Harry Potter. The next couple of hours were a blur as they served soup with slices of hot bread and butter, coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. Draco was decent in the kitchen by now, but he couldn’t multi-task like Ethan so he and Gwen had made the executive decision to just jump into the lunch menu for the morning. Making huge pots of soup and loaves of bread was a lot easier than juggling eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

Every now and then, Draco would catch a glimpse of dark, tousled locks in the corner of his eye as his former rival bounced around the kitchen. He was bright and chatty with everyone that came in, and Draco could hear enough to notice that many of them knew him.

Part of Draco wanted to roll his eyes at Harry’s easy charm. It took a lot more effort for Draco to be that way with strangers, and he couldn’t help but envy anyone who came by that talent naturally. The other part of Draco couldn’t help but smile at it. It was nice to see Harry in his element, and honestly, Draco didn’t begrudge a moment of happiness to anyone who went through the war and came out the other side alive and relatively sane. It took too much energy to hold onto that. There were plenty of other things he knew he’d be angry about for a long, long time to come. The petty vendettas of the past didn’t even rank among that list anymore.

As soon as they finished serving, it was time to prep for the next meal, which meant massive quantities of shepherd’s pie and more bread. Matt came down and collected the others Gwen had managed to enlist, directing them upstairs to help with handing out soap and towels for showers and assigning beds. He walked up to Draco with weary eyes, rubbing his beard like he always did when he was stressed.

“Hey Draco, I’m sorry to stick you with kitchen duty again, but – ”

“I’m already on it. No worries,” Draco interrupted. Matt smiled and let out a long sigh.

“Harry, do you mind helping him? I promise I’ll send you guys some help after everything’s under control upstairs.”

“Yeah, no problem. I think we’ve got it.” Harry looked over at Draco tentatively, and Draco nodded back.

After Matt left, Draco stood around awkwardly, not sure how to give Harry directions without unpleasantly echoing their past dynamic.

“Malf – er, can I call you Draco? Is that all right? I’d rather not think about being fifteen right now. Or ever, really.” Harry laughed nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

This was absurd. Draco could practically hear the cruel deities who orchestrated this day laughing as they wound up their puppets and watched the show.

“Neither do I, _Harry_.” Draco inadvertently cringed as he said it. The shape of the word was strange on his tongue.

“Well, don’t burst a blood vessel trying.” Harry cocked an eyebrow, an amused lilt in his voice.

“It just sounds odd.” Draco shrugged apologetically. “We should probably get started.”

Draco was grateful for the fortuitous opportunity to change the subject. They really did need to get to work.

“Right, just tell me what you need.”

Potter was willingly taking direction from him. Would wonders never cease?

“How are you with a knife?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“No, Pott – Harry. It’s a serious one. Can you chop carrots without hurting yourself or anyone else in the process?” Draco eyed him dubiously. Hopefully Potter wasn’t a disaster in the kitchen, but really, he didn’t have much choice but to take the risk. He needed all the help he could get.

“Yes, _Draco_. I can handle chopping carrots,” Harry said with a frustrated huff, setting himself up with a cutting board on the counter to the left of the sink.

Draco resisted the urge to launch into a rant about how defensive the bloody savior could be if anyone questioned his abilities in even the slightest of manners.

_Take a breath, Draco. Just get through this day, and you can go home to an adorable cat in a warm bed._

He pulled up a stool in front of the sink and set about the task of washing and peeling potatoes.

“So, um… how did you end up volunteering here?”

“Gwynnie – er – Gwen’s a good friend of mine. Met her at Rose’s actually. Found out she and Matt owned this place so I started helping out. Sort of became a compulsion after a while.” Draco finished peeling a potato and dropped it into a huge stainless steel bowl on the counter.

“How do you mean?”

Draco glanced over at Harry. A couple errant locks of hair kept falling into his eyes, and Harry tossed his head back to shake them out of the way every couple of minutes. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal sinewy brown forearms, a white apron slung around his neck and waist. It was an endearing sight. He somehow seemed at home, chopping away at the carrots with quick precision.

“I suppose I think if I fill up my time being the opposite of a genocidal arsehole, I’ll eventually feel like I never was one.”

The silence stretched between them for a moment, the sounds of a knife on hard plastic and a peeler’s blade skidding across potato skin zinging through the quiet air.

“How’s that working out?” There was no malice in the question, only genuine curiosity.

Draco shrugged, dropping another potato into the bowl. He didn’t know where to begin. There wasn’t really a succinct way to answer him, and there certainly wasn’t a happy answer to give.

“You know, you don’t have to worry about putting me off or anything. It’s not like we didn’t live through the same war. I’m not much for sugar-coating.” Harry offered him a sincere smile, and if Draco was being honest, that sparkle in his green eyes made Draco want to tell him more than he’d told anyone in a long time. Still, confiding in anyone didn’t come easily to Draco. His parents hadn’t raised him to be vulnerable and talk about such things freely, and Harry being Harry made it even more complicated.

“I wake up screaming in the middle of the night a lot less than I used to, but it’s… a work in progress. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Harry stood up and closed the distance between them, clamping a firm hand onto Draco’s shoulder. A shiver ran up and down Draco’s spine. He still didn’t let many people touch him like that. Gwen, Matt… that was where the list ended. A one-off shag with a bloke here and there didn’t count. That was different.

“I think we’re all a work in progress, yeah?” His voice was soft and supportive. Draco daren’t turn around and look into those eyes. He was too close. It was too much. He simply nodded, ignoring the way he automatically leaned into the touch. “What else do you need? I finished the carrots.”

Draco looked over to the giant cutting board and saw that it was littered with finely diced carrots.   

“You’re fast.” He couldn’t quell the surprise in his voice, and Harry laughed a little.

“Let’s just say I had a lot of practice as a kid.”

“All right, well… quarter the potatoes I’ve already peeled?”

“Got it.”

Draco smiled to himself as he continued peeling. They fell into a companionable silence, no awkwardness, just an oddly soothing stillness not unlike those morning winter walks Draco treasured so much. Every so often, one of them would break the quiet with a gentle question about what the other had been up to. Nothing too intense or dour. It was strange, a sensation of getting to know each other that almost erased the fact that they already did. Almost but not quite.

 

***

 

It was six PM, and the snow showed no signs of slowing down. The predicted foot was already solidly on the ground, blanketing everything in pure white mounds. The shelter was packed to the gills, not an extra bed in the whole building. Gwen and Matt were barely going to be able to find a place to sleep.

The volunteers had all left. Everyone except Draco and Harry.

“There isn’t anywhere safe to Apparate. There are way too many people everywhere, and outside is… well, a fucking disaster that’ll get me splinched in a heartbeat,” Harry whispered to Draco. He nodded emphatically in response.

“I know. I only live five blocks away. You can come back with me if you like. I know it’s not ideal to go out in this, but it shouldn’t take us more than ten minutes. Merlin knows we’re equipped with more tricks to help us get through it than other people. You can Apparate from there if you like.”

_Or you can stay the night._

_Oh bugger off. That’s a fucking ridiculous idea._

_Great. Always a good sign when you start talking to the voice inside your head, Draco._

“Great. Thanks.” Harry looked mildly shocked at the offer, his features displaying every single flicker of every emotion as they always did. He certainly wasn’t blessed with the Malfoy composure that Draco’s parents had instilled in him. It was perhaps one of the only things Draco had inherited that he was actually grateful for.

“Hey Gwynnie, I think Harry and I are going to head back to my place,” Draco said, stepping forward to interrupt Gwen and Matt’s frantic whispers about what to do.

“NO!” They exclaimed in unison, exchanging horrified looks. Draco smiled. They would make excellent parents someday.

“I know you’re completely batty, but that is quite possibly the most insane thing you’ve ever said. It’s a blizzard out there! It’s twenty below!” Gwen crossed her arms and gave Draco a steadfastly defiant look.

“It’s only five blocks. I’ve already done it once today, and – ”

“There wasn’t a white-out tornado of snow this morning,” Matt scolded, coming to stand beside Gwen, mirroring her unyielding stance. They made quite the formidable pair when they wanted to.

“There’s nowhere to stay here! Plus, I left Colette all alone with the heat off.” Perhaps a bit of a fib would strengthen his case. Harry looked at him with a confused wrinkle in his brow, and Draco waved him off.

His friends looked at each other dejectedly. Draco knew they probably didn’t want to admit he was right but couldn’t very well argue with him anymore. Draco was nothing if not incurably stubborn when he decided to be; he and Gwen had that in common.

_And you and Potter._

_Didn’t I already tell you to fuck off?_

“You CALL ME as soon as you get home. And if I don’t hear from you within half an hour, don’t think I won’t get every possible emergency vehicle out there looking for you.” Gwen narrowed her eyes, and Draco smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“I promise. And remember, I’m not alone so if I die, my corpse can feed Potter here for at least a couple days.”

“Ha. Ha. Extremely funny. _Call us,_ you mulish boy.” Matt tried to give Draco an equally stern look, but a smile was threatening to break through.

“I will.”

“Thanks for everything, boys. We couldn’t have survived today without you.”

“My pleasure, as always.” Harry beamed at the two of them before following Draco to the office to get his coat.

“Who’s Colette?” Harry asked as he wrapped a scarf around his neck and chin. Gryffindor colors. Draco rolled his eyes.

“My cat.”

“You have a cat?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Draco said with a snort.

“Sorry, you just don’t seem like the type to have animals.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco heard the petulance creeping back into his own voice.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Harry held his hands up in surrender and finished bundling up. They both checked to make sure Gwen and Matt weren’t heading their way before discreetly casting some warming charms and a _Protego_ on themselves. Draco wouldn’t normally do that to protect against weather (his reliance on magic was fading with every passing day), but these were no ordinary circumstances.

 

***

 

The walk wasn’t so bad, fat flakes of snow bouncing effortlessly off their invisible shields. The warming charms weren’t very easy to maintain, but by the time they faded, the bitter air infiltrating their many layers of clothes like they didn’t even exist, they were nearly to Draco’s place.

Casting a charm on the lock just as he had the day before, Draco opened the door and locked it behind them. As he shed his outer layer for the second time that day, panic began to course through him. Harry was in his home, and knowing how historically nosy the Gryffindor had been, he didn’t think he was going to leave without first poking around every single room on the first floor. It wasn’t that Draco wanted him to leave, but opening his home to scrutiny from someone from his past wasn’t a challenge he had anticipated facing today. 

Draco turned around and sure enough, Harry’s wide eyes were sweeping over every inch of the place with fascination.

“Your house is lovely. Very cozy.” There was a note of surprise in Harry’s voice. Draco opened his mouth to protest with a tart _and why shouldn’t it be_ , but ultimately closed it, determined not to give into the desire to be contentious with his old sparring partner.

“Thanks.”

“Do you live alone? It’s big.”

Before Draco could reply, Harry nervously interjected.

“Not that it’s too big or anything! I just – well, I thought – ”

Draco chuckled. There was something a little irresistible about making Harry so nervous by merely existing. There was also a subtle comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one suffering through a whole host of anxieties during this impromptu… hangout? Is that what was bloody well happening right now?

“It’s fine. I do live alone. I just… like space, you know?” Despite the Manor being so large, Voldemort’s reign of terror had made Draco prone to a sort of claustrophobia when it came to his living quarters. Often, confined spaces felt like traps waiting to ensnare him. His two-story house in London was miniscule in comparison to his childhood home, but it was still quite large for a single person, especially one so young. The real estate agent had balked at a young, childless man buying such a sizeable property, but he had the money to spare and fell in love with how open and full of light it was. Large archways connected all the downstairs rooms and wide picture windows illuminated the living room with broad beams of sunlight during the day. “Do you want some tea before you go?”

Draco didn’t drink much tea, but he always had it on hand. His upbringing had taught him that proper gentlemen always offered tea to their guests, and despite preferring his caffeine in the form of strong, black coffee, he’d never really shaken that tendency. It was a flimsy excuse to keep Harry around considering he could Apparate right from Draco’s living room back into his own comfortable home, but it was the hospitable thing to do, right? That’s what Draco told himself, anyway. It certainly had nothing to do with wanting to keep Potter around longer.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Draco headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on, and when he turned around, there was Harry, looking better than he had any right to considering he had just worked in a homeless shelter all day. It made Draco remember his own unfortunately less-than-stellar wardrobe choice for the day.

“I’m going to head upstairs for a minute to change. I reek of shepherd’s pie.”

Harry nodded, and Draco bounded past him and up the stairs, ignoring the way his heart had begun to pound in his chest. He called Gwen first to make sure the flashing lights of an ambulance and several police cars wouldn’t interrupt his evening. Once he had convinced her that he was alive and safely inside, he rifled through his closet, selecting a royal blue cardigan in place of his green jumper, leaving the Pulp shirt beneath it. Something told him Harry might appreciate that. He changed into clean black jeans that highlighted his slim legs and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Draco looked at his reflection and combed away all damage caused by the wind and stuffing his hair under a hat. He squirted a dime-sized amount of hair tonic into his palm and tousled his blond locks into the perfect side-swept wave. He evaluated his appearance before giving a curt nod at his reflection. Although he was satisfied, he felt ridiculous. Why was he doing this for Potter? Potter, who probably didn’t even _own_ a comb to tame that messy yet unfairly attractive mop atop his head.

“You are fine. You can handle this. Harry Potter is in your living room and yes, he looks good enough to eat. Good enough to eat his arse all fucking night in fact, but you can handle this. Stop being an idiot.”

Just then, Draco heard the unmistakable little chirrup of Colette. He looked down at the ground to see the cat looking up at him with her blue almond-shaped eyes.

“Now now, I will have no judgment from you. How did you even get in here? I swear I closed the door.” Draco picked her up, and she immediately nestled against his chest and began to purr. “Let’s bring you down to meet him, shall we? I have a feeling he’ll quite like you.”

Draco descended the steps and took a left into the kitchen to find Harry removing the tea basket from the pot and pouring them each a cup. He turned around as he heard Draco’s footsteps.

“I hope you don’t mind. It was whistling while you were up there so I grabbed a jar from the counter and finished up.”

“Not at all. I got sidetracked by this one.” Draco smiled and dipped his chin to indicate the furry creature.

“Oh, she’s beautiful! Hi there, Lady Colette. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Harry bowed his head as though addressing a proper aristocratic woman.

“Don’t encourage her. She already walks around here preening and judging everyone like a sassy little cat goddess.”

“Like father, like daughter, eh?” Harry joked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off! I knew I’d regret inviting you in.” Draco rolled his eyes, but he was secretly enjoying the banter. It almost felt… flirty.

“Well, I’m glad you did. It’ll be nice to crawl into my own bed on a night like this.”

Draco was surprised at how his chest constricted a little at the thought. He found he’d much rather Harry crawl into _his_ bed for the night.

_As if that would ever happen._

“In here or…?” Harry motioned to the mugs on the kitchen table.

“Living room, I think. I don’t know about you, but I could do with collapsing on a couch for a while.”

“Definitely.” Harry levitated the mugs and followed Draco to the living room.

They sat down on the velvety chocolate brown sofa. As soon as Draco placed Colette on the cushion between them, she made her way over to Harry’s lap and meowed expectantly, eager to win his affection, until he began to stroke her between the ears. She stretched her elegant neck, front paws laid out in sphinx pose.

“You weren’t kidding. She’s a tiny little queen, isn’t she?” Harry smiled into his mug as he took a sip. “How long have you had her?”

“About two years. I got her shortly after I moved here. I like a lot of alone time, but I…” Draco hesitated, not sure if he wanted to delve into how isolated he’d felt when he first moved into the city, so alone and ignorant of the ins and outs of Muggle life. “It was nice to have her to come home to. God, that sounds terribly pitiful and needy.”

“No, it doesn’t. Our friendships with animals are important.” Harry sounded rather mournful so Draco tried for a change of subject. Both of them had finished their tea, and Draco thought this night called for something a little stronger than that.

“How would you feel about switching to wine?”

“Brilliant idea,” Harry replied with a smile.

 

***

 

Two glasses of wine later, the conversation was less stilted, the two of them catching up on the less traumatic parts of their respective last three years.

“I still can’t believe Draco Malfoy has a better record collection than me.” Harry lifted the copy of Portishead’s _Dummy_ and removed the vinyl disc from its sleeve, placing it gently on the turntable. Harry closed his eyes and smiled serenely as the first eerie strains of "Mysterons" began, the haunting electronic whine of the music laced with Beth Gibbons’s reedy, melancholy vocals filling the room. “You’re not allowed to be cooler than me when you’ve only been in the Muggle world for two years.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve always been cooler than you, Potter.” Draco smiled, his heart aching over that simple sight of Harry so at ease in Draco’s home, crouched on the floor, socked feet tucked underneath him as he let the melodies wash over him.

“This is a good snowstorm record. Mind if I open the curtains?” Harry opened his eyes and turned to Draco with a tentative tilt of his head.

“Go ahead.” They both gasped audibly as the curtains drew back to reveal swirling gusts of snow blowing past the windows. It was almost as though they’d forgotten what was going on outside, the swell of the music and crackling of the logs in the fireplace drowning out the howling wind, the heavy drapes blocking out the snowfall.

“It’s sort of gorgeous and terrifying all at once, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.” Draco knelt beside Harry on the floor, misjudging the distance and ending up with their thighs pressed together. A little flutter of pleasure rushed through Draco’s already fire and wine flushed skin. Harry looked at him with soft eyes and the faintest of smiles, and Draco couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he tried. Harry wet his lips, and his eyes lowered to Draco’s mouth. Surely he wasn’t going to… _was_ he?

But without warning, the spell broke as though someone had snapped their fingers, and Harry’s head shot up to look at the clock atop the bookshelf.

“Oh damn, it’s after eleven. You probably want me out of your hair, huh? I know you’ve had a really long day.” Harry stood up and set his empty wine glass on the coffee table.

“No!” Draco’s insistent tone startled them both as he stood up. “I mean – no, I’m fine. You don’t – you can stay if you want. I mean, it’s up to you, but you’ve had a couple glasses of wine, it’s late, I have a big house. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a drunk Harry Potter getting splinched in a snowstorm. Merlin knows the wizarding world hates me enough.”

Neither of them were truly drunk right then, but once again, Draco found himself grasping for reasons to make Harry stay.

“Are you saying I can stay the night?” Harry tilted his head, clearly taken aback by the invitation, but Draco could have sworn he looked pleased about this turn of events.

“Yes… if you’d like to.” Draco averted his eyes as he waited for an answer. “It’s just the polite thing to do… considering the weather and all.”

“Funny. This seems like the kind of thing that, if _I_ suggested it, you might say something like ‘what are we, Potter? A bunch of Hufflepuff girls? I do not have _sleepovers_.’” Harry grinned mischievously.

“Oh god, I don’t have sleepovers because yes, I am not a Hufflepuff girl. This is just a friend letting another friend crash – ”

“Oh, so we’re friends now, are we?”

Draco glared at him. He wanted nothing more than to smack that smug grin off his stupid bespectacled face. Or kiss it off. Maybe both. Merlin, this was a confusing night.

“Why am I even bothering with you? I should’ve known you’d be just as insufferable as ever. Go on and get yourself splinched for all I care. I – ” Draco turned to walk away, but Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really easy to rile?”

Draco swallowed, his breath hitching as he realized they were so close he could smell Potter. He smelled like wine and woodsmoke laced with a lingering bit of winter air. Draco lifted his chin haughtily and took a risk.

“Perhaps you should try another method sometime. You might get a much more favorable reaction.”

“And what kind of reaction would that be?” Harry took another step closer, still holding onto Draco’s wrist. Draco could feel his pulse throbbing underneath the pads of Harry’s fingers, a rhythmic thump that suddenly felt as loud and persistent as a siren.

“I don’t know... What were you hoping for, Harry?” Draco saw Harry’s eyelids flutter as he said his name in that low purr, the kind that always guaranteed he could melt a man into a puddle ready for the taking.

“Have you always looked this good?” Harry’s expression changed, those eyes swimming in lust, the tops of his cheeks pink. Abruptly, it all vanished, replaced by concern and apprehension. He dropped Draco’s wrist. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. Forget I said that. I – ”

“No, I haven’t. As I recall, I looked rather worse for wear when we last saw one another. Then again, so did you.” Draco’s mouth hung open a bit, partly in awe and partly in fear. What came next? And why did he have to mention that? The war was the last thing either of them needed to think about right now.

“Oh… and how about…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at Draco so shyly it made his chest ache and all the blood rush to his cock. Something about taking apart a shy boy who couldn’t quite ask for what he wanted was irresistible to Draco. It always had been, but this… this was alluring in a way that surpassed all of them. “How about now?”

“Now you look good enough to taste… everywhere,” Draco whispered, closing the distance between them. Harry whimpered when Draco wrapped a possessive arm around his waist, pulling him flush against him, their foreheads touching, hot breath mingling.

“Fuck… you’re hard already,” Harry whispered, moaning softly as Draco ground their hips together.

“And all I’ve done is look at you. Can’t help but wonder what would happen if I kissed you.” Draco closed his eyes and gently grazed Harry’s lips with his own, his cock twitching at the desperate little whine Harry made. Harry’s tongue darted out to trace Draco’s bottom lip, and now it was his turn to groan helplessly. At long last, their mouths crashed together, tongues hungrily exploring each other. Draco tightly wound his fingers in that nest of dark, wavy hair, and Harry gripped Draco’s slender shoulders like he didn’t ever want to let go. “Am I pathetically desperate if I Apparate us upstairs?”

“Only as pathetically desperate as I am because I was about to do the same.” They exchanged conspiratorial smiles, and Draco held out his arm for Harry to take. In a brief second, they were upstairs in Draco’s bedroom, Harry carelessly tossing his glasses onto the nightstand. Harry pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him and taking off his sweater and t-shirt just as Draco had fleetingly fantasized about. Draco did the same, not wasting a second of time in pulling Harry against him, moaning at the way Harry’s smooth skin felt against his own. His chest was even more gorgeous naked than it was clothed, and Draco planned on kissing and licking every inch of it.

He lapped at Harry’s neck, scraping his teeth down the length of it. Draco flipped them over so he could have free reign of Harry’s body, kissing his way down to his left nipple, teasing the bud with his teeth and gentle flicks of the tip of his tongue. Harry moaned and bucked his hips, so sensitive from the slightest touch it made Draco feel dizzy. He was so intoxicated by every brush of fingers and lips against skin that he forgot to be embarrassed about the Dark Mark. But then Harry stroked down his arm, and Draco knew what was under his fingers at that very moment. He jerked away and rolled off Harry, protectively clutching his forearm as he sat against the headboard, fingers splayed across the faded tattoo.

“Draco? Did I do something wrong – oh…” Harry slid closer, stroking Draco’s thigh with a warm palm. “I thought we agreed we didn’t want to feel fifteen tonight?”

Harry rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder.

“Why are you being so… nice about everything?” Draco looked out the window. The curtains were open in here too, and the snow was as impressive as ever, shooting past the windows like tiny white comets, a blur of winter at its most brutal.  

“Why are you?” Harry countered, and Draco couldn’t help but laugh a little. The nature of their conversations might have changed today, but the pattern was still eerily similar to how it had always been.

“Touché.”

“Anyone would have to be blind to not see you’ve changed. I may have only spent a day with you, but I see it. And I don’t know… it’s beautiful out there. Well… beautiful if you’re not in it, and we’re stuck in this warm house and you look _so fucking good_.” Harry nibbled on Draco’s ear, tracing the edge with his tongue, and Draco leaned into it with a soft moan. “I’m not stupid. I know we have things to talk about. I know we might want to forget all this in the morning when everything caves in and it feels like too much, but let’s not think about that tonight, okay? Let me make you come.”

“Fucking hell, Harry – you – I – fuck –”

“Yes, that’s the idea.” Harry giggled, and Draco swatted his arm.

“Look, it’s a bit overwhelming, okay? Forgive me if I can’t make coherent sentences right now.”

“We don’t need to make coherent sentences. In fact, I’m hoping we’ll be too busy to do that,” Harry whispered in his ear, running his hand across Draco’s groin, gripping his cock through the denim.

“And what exactly does the Saviour want right now?” Draco scooted closer, bracing a palm against Harry’s toned chest.

“For you to not call him that. Harry will do just fine.” Harry gently tugged on Draco’s hair, tipping his head back and pressing a few light kisses on his lips. “But beyond that, I want you to fuck me… if you’re okay with that.”

“This is absolutely mad. You know that, right?” Draco skated his fingers up and down the back of Harry’s neck and kissed him, licking into his mouth slowly, pulling back every now and then, striving to tease Harry until he clutched at Draco greedily. Draco smirked when Harry did exactly what he wanted, practically leaping into his lap with a groan and pushing him against the headboard.

“And when have I ever done anything that wasn’t?” Harry peppered Draco’s neck with kisses, hips working steadily in his lap. Draco’s eyelids fluttered as he looked over Harry’s shoulder at the storm raging outside. Perhaps a little on the nose for the universe to deliver this moment during such a formidable blizzard, but it was fitting all the same.

“Fair point. Why aren’t you naked yet?” Draco frantically fumbled with the fastenings on Harry’s jeans, both of them panting with desire now, and pulled them clean off along with his pants. He barely had a moment to take in the sight of Harry’s hard cock bobbing free and the dark hair covering his strong thighs before Harry was impatiently returning the favor, stripping Draco of all remaining clothes.

They both slowed down for a minute, leaning back to look at one another, the sounds of the fierce wind outside layering over their quiet breaths. Draco noticed Harry’s resolve to ignore the past wavering as he saw the scars crisscrossing his chest, but Draco shook his head resolutely, giving Harry’s bicep a firm squeeze.

_Not now. You promised. Touch me like I’m not marked. No one ever does._

Draco felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes, a collection of memories from the last few years flooding his mind in a most undesirable way. There were men who had balked at his scars when he took his shirt off, and strangers who he’d defensively snarled at when pressed about the origin of the Dark Mark. Or worse… those overnight conquests who had stayed too long, long enough to be startled into waking when they heard Draco’s shrieks and sobs as his unconscious mind betrayed him, playing sinister videos of his traumas as he slept. Sometimes they were eidetic in their accuracy, sometimes bled through with the confounding landscapes of illogic and symbolism that dreams possessed, but they were always terrifying in their palpable atmosphere, the dread following him into the subsequent waking hours like a hangover. He foolishly had thought sleeping with Muggles would make the blemishes matter less, but it always invited questions and speculation. Not to mention Draco’s least favorite reaction of all: that maddening gaze of pity, like he was a tortured, fragile thing they might deign to rescue. He blinked the impending tears away before they could threaten to fall, and kissed Harry’s mouth to stop the release of unwelcome words.

It didn’t really make sense; any other day, Draco might have wanted to punish him for it, might have relished in Harry’s face falling as he looked upon the damage he’d done. He’d always resented the way Harry had gotten away with so much back then. But tonight, he was grateful for the agreed upon armistice. Draco was tired. So very tired, and it felt good to surrender to what he wanted in this  moment, to not think about how that might change later and what it would mean in the harsh light of day. Harry had given him permission for that. Why shouldn’t he take that offered hand into his own?

“Draco, I’m so – ”

“Not tonight. _Please_. Can you do that for me?” Draco held Harry’s face in his hands, those green eyes gone pensive now, his bottom lip quivering with the need to say too many things Draco didn’t think he could handle right now. He didn’t want to break apart. Not tonight.

For a second, Draco thought Harry would revert to his old patterns of stubbornness, filling the room with words until the night was too tarnished to salvage. But instead, he closed his plush lips and nodded solemnly. 

“Can I… taste you first?” Draco breathlessly asked, burying his face in Harry’s neck as he suggestively ran his fingers along the cleft of Harry’s arse. Normally, Draco wasn’t shy about asking for what he wanted in bed, but this wasn’t any ordinary one night stand. Too much eye contact felt like it would slice right into the core of him. Those fucking eyes… why did they always have to hold so much?

“Merlin, _yes_. Please.”

To Draco’s surprise, Harry rolled onto his stomach, raising up on his knees and spreading his legs for him, his arms wrapped around a pillow, lovely flushed face turned to Draco expectantly. By the look on Harry’s face, Draco could tell his own eyes had darkened with lust. He had a tendency to look _hungry_ in times like these.   

 _Like a lone wolf on the hunt_ , one man had told him in a mixture of wonder and reservation, like there was something slightly worrying about how very much Draco _wanted_. He supposed that was true. Draco craved this kind of touch like a drug sometimes; it was an easily attainable way to lose oneself for a couple hours, even if it didn’t stick in the aftermath. He idly wondered if Harry was that way too, chasing the internal demons away with feverish sex, thrusting and panting like he could outrun his pain if he just fucked someone hard enough.

Draco trailed a tentative finger down Harry’s spine, sighing softly when Harry shivered underneath the contact, his back arching like a cat. He moved to the end of the bed, lying down between Harry’s open legs, and stroked his hands up and down the backs of his thighs. The muscles were quivering ever so slightly, and Draco wondered if it was from excitement or nerves. He gave both cheeks a firm squeeze before pulling them apart and licking slowly across his entrance, moaning at the sensation of the warm furled skin beneath his tongue, the way Harry whimpered so sweetly and gripped the pillow tighter. He kept massaging the muscle, tracing circles around the rim before lapping eagerly at the skin, encouraged by Harry’s moans growing louder with every wet swipe, his hips bucking back against Draco’s mouth now. Draco continued to open him up with his tongue, not satisfied until Harry was a writhing, undignified mess, relaxed and obscenely wet. 

Draco stopped long enough to grope into the nightstand drawer for lube, a smug smile spreading across his lips when Harry made a huff of protest. His frustration gave way to a pleasurable sigh when he saw what Draco had been looking for. Draco opened the bottle but paused for a moment, surveying Harry’s willing body spread out before him. He looked perfect, like something Rodin might sculpt from marble, chipping away until he released the god underneath.  The sound of a few large clusters of snow pelting the window startled him, a reminder that this wasn’t some strange dream.

“Are you comfortable like this?” Draco whispered as he drizzled a bit of the sticky liquid on his forefinger.

“Yeah, I am. You can start with two if you want. I’m not… I can take it.” The cadence of Harry’s voice was a little needy, a tone adjacent to begging that make Draco’s cock pulse.

“As you wish,” He purred, coating his fingers and rubbing them across the rim, letting Harry adjust before beginning to push inside, a couple inches at a time, rocking slowly back and forth, deeper and deeper with each thrust. Harry was so warm around his fingers, squeezing them tightly, stretching around him more easily with every passing second. He kissed the base of Harry’s spine, tracing a path up his back with his lips, fingering him a little harder and faster. Harry was letting out stammering little gasps and breathing Draco’s name. It was surreal to hear his name on Harry’s tongue like that – so full of yearning. They used to say each other’s names like they were rotten, repulsive things, never progressing beyond that curt, impersonal usage of surnames. The familiarity of a first name was somehow like the softness of a caress in Draco’s mind. Yet here they were, falling so naturally into the rhythm of carnal call-and-response, Draco echoing Harry’s name in response to Harry groaning his own.

Draco added a third finger and wrapped his arm around Harry’s chest, panting into his ear, his cock rubbing against Harry’s arse, bumping against the fingers that were still pumping in and out. It was all too much, and Draco wasn’t even inside him yet.

“Fuck, you feel so amazing. I need – I – ”

“ _Yes yes,_ please. I want you inside me, Draco.”

Draco felt a rush of heat coursing through him at the sound of Harry pleading for it, and he wasted no time carefully removing his fingers and reaching for a condom from the open nightstand drawer. He frowned at it for a second.

“Um, I hope it’s okay – I haven’t had sex with anyone from – ” It was awkward because Draco was too conscious of this avenue of thought leading to conversations he didn’t really want to have, but luckily Harry saved him the trouble.

“It’s okay. I’ve used condoms too. Works just as well.” Harry looked over his shoulder and gave Draco a comforting smile.

Draco opened the foil packet and rolled the condom on, trying not to think too hard about what was about to happen. He slicked his cock with more lube and took a deep breath, sliding his palms over Harry’s arse. His skin was so lovely; while Draco was grateful for the cover of night, he also minutely wished he could see Harry’s body in the daylight. He carefully began to push inside, sucking in a harsh breath as he felt that velvet heat encasing the head of his cock. He rubbed circles into Harry’s lower back, stroking up and down his thighs as he entered him, encouraged by the deep moan Harry made, his hands fisting the sheets when Draco’s cock was finally hilt-deep.     

Draco began to move his hips, hesitantly at first until Harry pushed back onto his cock to demand more. He folded his chest over Harry’s back, thrusting more forcefully now, hyper aware of how close they were, Draco’s balls slapping against the backs of Harry’s thighs, their sweat mingling.

“Harder,” Harry gasped, reaching back to clutch at Draco’s arm. Draco obeyed, holding him closer, nosing in the hair at the nape of his neck, basking in every gorgeous sound he made as Draco fucked into him. “ _Yes yes_ that’s so good, Draco. Please I – ”

“What? What do you need, love?” He didn’t know why he’d said it, but Harry didn’t allow him enough time for regret to set in. He whined so beautifully, twisting his head around to meet Draco’s mouth, drinking from his lips like it was all that mattered.

“Want to see you. Want to be on top of you.”

Draco nodded enthusiastically, pulling out and giving Harry space to move. Harry immediately straddled Draco, gripping the base of his cock as he sank down on it. The stark intimacy of it was overwhelming; the way Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Draco’s cock disappeared inside him, his sweat-sheened forehead glistening in the moonlight, his long arms winding around Draco’s shoulders. As he started to move, he opened his eyes, and Draco held his gaze for a few seconds, grey meeting glittering green. Something deep in Draco’s chest twisted and stung, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He averted his eyes, bending his head down to kiss his chest as Harry rode him, sucking a nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth across the hard bud until Harry sank his fingers into Draco’s hair. Harry picked up the pace, lifting up and slamming down more insistently, his moans erratic and stuttering now. Draco was so close, but all he cared about at that moment was making Harry come on his cock. Reaching between them, he gripped Harry’s swollen erection and stroked it, trying to match Harry’s own rhythm as he fucked himself on Draco’s cock, his head thrown back, eyes shut tight once again.

This time Draco didn’t shy away from watching Harry’s face.

“Fuck, I need to see you come, Harry.” Draco thrust up to meet him every time he pushed back down, his hand a frantic blur on Harry’s cock. He could tell it wouldn’t be long now. Harry’s muscles were tensing, his fingers clawing at Draco’s shoulders. With a sharp cry, Harry started to come, his cock pulsing in Draco’s hand, his arse clenching around him in a way that made Draco's eyes roll back in his head. Harry’s expression was so beatific as he came hot and hard over Draco’s fingers; it was beautiful to see him that carefree. Draco didn’t have to ask… he knew Harry fought off similar phantoms in his dreams. They were both indelibly changed in that way, and they both deserved moments of peace like this.

Harry stilled for a few seconds, lost in his own euphoria, before undulating his hips again. He speared Draco with determined eyes that made him melt. Harry had barely gotten started when Draco spilled inside him, Harry’s name on his lips, his mouth against Harry’s ear.

Neither of them moved for a minute. Draco was surprised at how tender Harry was in the afterglow, kissing Draco’s temples and cheeks and stroking his hair. Part of him had expected Harry to recoil immediately after he realized what he’d done… and who he’d done it with.

“Mmm, thank you,” Harry whispered into the crook of Draco’s neck. It made Draco laugh, erasing all of his concerns. He pulled back to look at him.

“Did you just _thank_ me?”

“Yes!” Harry laughed as he did a quick cleaning charm on both of them. Draco’s eyebrows rose. Of course Harry could do wandless magic. Of course. “You fucked me so good I forgot about everything for a while. I’d say that’s a feat worth giving thanks for, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes… yes, I would.” Draco hadn’t meant for his tone to turn solemn, but he knew all too well what Harry meant, his brain whirring with all the heavy implications. They were two sides of the same dysfunctional coin, and Draco felt marginally oblivious for only realizing it now.

As they separated, unwinding their spent limbs from one another, fatigue set in. Draco didn’t even want to check the time. He imagined he’d probably been up for going on twenty hours straight by now. Without thinking about it, he slid under the covers and nestled into the pillows, not noticing that Harry was perched on the edge of the bed looking unsure of himself.

“What’s wrong?” Draco croaked, his voice thick from use and drowsiness.

“Oh… ” Harry turned to meet Draco’s gaze. “I wasn’t sure if you’d mind… if I stayed, I mean.”

“Of course you can stay. If I wasn’t going to let you go home in a blizzard hours ago, I’m not going to fuck you and then turn you out into the cold at whatever unreasonable hour it is. I’m generally not that discourteous despite what people may think. Although if you snore, I may just have to banish you to the snowdrifts, manners be damned.” Draco tried for a smile, but Harry’s comments made him contemplate the mortifying risk of having Harry present for one of his nightmares. He’d been fortunate the past few months. Nothing too disruptive had infiltrated his sleep, but with his luck, it would choose to rear its ugly head tonight.

“It’s good you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” Harry replied with a snort, lifting the comforter and crawling in next to Draco. “Am I right in assuming you’re not much of a cuddler?”

Draco hesitated. The thought of Harry wrapped around him all night, his sleep-warm limbs a comforting weight, was appealing, but it also seemed ill advised. He hadn’t gotten attached to any of the men he’d slept with before. He wasn’t about to start now, especially not with Harry. Draco knew this, yet when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “I’m amenable to bestowing the privilege upon those who deserve it.”

Harry leaned up on his elbows and flashed Draco a look of disbelief.

“You really still are a git, you know that? And what does someone have to do to be deserving of this oh-so-coveted privilege?”

“Be a gorgeous man who made me come so hard, I forgot he used to be the bane of my existence.” Draco gave Harry a sly smirk and opened his arms in invitation.

_Draco, you absolute moron. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had, and that’s really saying something._

Harry curled against Draco’s chest with a contented hum, his arm slung across his stomach and his unruly hair tickling Draco’s shoulder. He wrapped both arms around Harry, completely failing to resist the urge to smell his hair.

Draco began to drift off right away, only to be awakened by Colette’s soft chortle as she jumped onto the bed. She generally liked to sleep where Harry was currently burrowed. Not one to be denied, she climbed on top of Draco, settling in on his stomach, her fluffy flank leaning against Harry’s arm.

“Hey, girl,” Harry slurred sleepily, his hand reaching down to lazily pat her head.

Draco floated into the welcoming embrace of slumber with a smile on his face.

 

***

 

Draco awoke to a softly snoring Harry still draped across him. So no nightmares then. Thank Merlin for small favors. Colette had migrated to the foot of the bed during the night, curled into a little semi-circle, one front paw covering her face. Draco gingerly slid his arm out from underneath Harry’s sleeping frame and folded his hands behind his head. He looked down at Harry’s serene face, his tan skin lying against Draco’s own ivory complexion. Draco combed his fingers through Harry’s hair, retracting his hand when he stirred and let out a little moan. Too late. Harry’s eyes opened, groggily blinking up at Draco as he woke up and left the dream world behind.

“Morning,” Harry mumbled with a small smile.

“Good morning,” Draco echoed back. They looked at one another nervously, neither sure what to say next.

“You look sad,” He whispered, and Draco had to turn away from the blatant sincerity in Harry’s eyes.

“No, I don’t.” Draco knew that refusing to meet Harry’s eyes didn’t strengthen his case, but evasive maneuvers weren’t easy first thing in the morning. He’d only been awake a few minutes.

“Do you regret last night?”

Draco turned his attention back to Harry with a frown. It was such unexpected candor, but then again, Harry wasn’t exactly known for having a filter.

“No,” He responded truthfully.

“Good, me neither. Do you want me to go right now?”

Draco chewed on his bottom lip and considered this.

“No.”

“Good because I don't want to. I would ask what else you want, but then I might have to give you an answer too, and I don’t think I have one.” Harry gave Draco a crooked smile that he couldn’t help but return.

“I certainly understand that,” Draco responded. He was having trouble ignoring that fluttering feeling this stupidly handsome man’s smile gave him.

They both chuckled, exploring each other’s bodies with leisurely hands.

“Well, I might have a _tiny_ bit of an idea,” Harry said with a sultry bend to his voice.

“Oh?” Draco felt his cheeks flushing, arousal already coiling inside him.

“Yeah... I know how I want to fill the next hour at least.” Harry palmed Draco’s naked cock, coaxing it to hardness before dipping his head to kiss Draco’s chest. “I haven’t felt you in my mouth yet, and we really can’t have that, can we?”

Harry's head disappeared under the covers, and Draco gasped as he felt the heat of his tongue.

“Fuck…” Draco threw his head back against the pillow, moaning and tugging on Harry’s hair as he sucked on the head of Draco’s cock.

Even though Draco was fighting the rising tide of _what ifs_ and possible scenarios reflecting the myriad ways this could go wrong, he could handle an hour. After all, he’d only gotten through post-war life by doing just that. Sometimes day-by-day was too much, but hour to hour was somehow always manageable. That said, few of those hours had ever been as enjoyable as this. Draco bit back a high-pitched whine as Harry swallowed him down, every worry fading into the distance until all that remained was this moment, Harry’s mouth, and the snowy aftermath outside the bedroom window. 

 

***

 

“This is ridiculous. Tell me again how this is supposed to be fun?” Draco shook his head as he watched Harry giddily tunneling through the snow with gloved hands. He would have been perfectly content to snuggle on the couch with coffee and mindless movies, but Harry had been insistent that this was a mandatory snow day activity. Draco was fairly certain Harry needed his head examined.

It had taken them a lot of surreptitious wand work to progress past Draco’s front door. The snow was nearly three quarters of the way up the door, and Draco would be damned if he was going to take care of it with a shovel. Besides, he had no idea where to shovel it _to_. The accumulation was so tall that the only option would have been to fling it behind him into the house.

“Oh come on, didn’t you love this when you were a kid? Everything sparkling and white, the world so quiet… it’s like everything just _stops_ for once, you know? School shuts down, people stay in their houses, and outside it’s like this untouched paradise. Before I knew I was a wizard, _this_ was what magic was to me, you know?” Harry grinned broadly, his cheeks red and wind-chafed, his messy hair peeking out from underneath the brim of his knit hat, and Draco’s heart soared.

“Yes… I do know what you mean.” Draco gazed out into the frozen landscape, at all the untouched white slopes surrounding them, and remembered what the Manor grounds had been like this time of year. He’d always loved frolicking across the acres of land, the seemingly endless expanse of territory stretching as far as his little eyes could see. Christmas was always the most lively, vibrant time of year in that house, every room filled with enticing smells and bright lights, his mother always dressed in elegant gowns that seemed to be made from miles and miles of hand-spun silk. He remembered how that fabric had felt between his small fingers when he’d tugged on her skirt. He’d forgotten life had ever been like that.

Harry frantically waved Draco over to the hollow he’d dug and sat down in, a cushioning charm cast to give them a place to comfortably sit. It was like an icy cave, the light streaming through the snow to give it that bluish-white tint. It felt strangely safe and secreted away from the rest of the world.

Harry was excitedly babbling about something, but Draco couldn’t hear. Every sound was drowned out by an unexpected kind of elation, the kind that comes from realizing you’re in charge of the way memory serves you. Perception is everything, and trauma is inescapable, but it doesn’t have to fade everything that came before it. Perhaps some things aren’t really tainted forever. Maybe sometimes it just takes longer to wash away the stain and rediscover what was shining underneath. And when that isn’t possible, maybe we find new places to call our own, new memories to slide over top of the ones we’ve discarded.

Draco suddenly clasped Harry’s face in his hands and kissed him urgently. Harry was startled at first, nearly losing his balance and tumbling back into the fort’s walls, but then Draco felt him relax into it with a sigh, his hands squeezing Draco’s waist as his tongue brushed across Draco’s own. Draco pulled back and held Harry’s gaze.

“I’m glad you came to the shelter yesterday,” He whispered, sweeping away a stray snowflake from Harry’s cheek.

“Me too.” Harry smiled and laced his fingers with Draco’s before turning back to the makeshift doorway of the snow cave. Just then, flurries began to fall. Not in great, terrifying swirls as they had the previous day. Only slow, tiny specks that disappeared into the large mounds below.

They sat and watched in silence for a while, Harry’s head coming to lean against Draco’s shoulder, and Draco didn’t feel cold anymore. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.


End file.
